A/N: I'm giving the Maximoffs a history similar to that in the comics because when I first started writing this and planned it, it had been before Days of Future Past came to theaters. And my stubborn ass had already built a good amount of the characterization of the Maximoffs built around their background in the comics (and since there hadn't been any at the moment, and even after the films there is still barely any.)

A traveler

A basketcase

And a thief

This would typically be seen as an odd group of individuals by some, many wondering just how they got along, and that surely they must clash with each other too much.

They did, for sure—many times they did, but they made it work. They had to. After all, they were family.

From the first day Marya Maximoff laid eyes on the two tiny bundles swaddled in cloth, she had fallen in love with the twins. Her husband, on the other hand, had been more wary in acceptance at first. She couldn't blame him. From knowing their mother and hearing stories of who they guessed was the father, Marya understood his concern. But she also knew that the two were just human as well, they were innocent.

They were just infants

And upon Magda's dying words, Marya held in her heart as her duty that she would uphold the silent promise to keep them, to protect them, and grow them up into a fine man and woman. All went well despite the death of her close friend, and with the help of the others they traveled with—and of her husband, of course—they were able to manage.

And then her husband disappeared.

The once-headstrong Romani woman then suddenly crumbled; Marya was only twenty-four then. Scared and still young, she continued traveling with her family and Magda's twins, gaining reassurance and consultancy when needed. And slowly, but surely, Marya began returning to herself and was growing happy once more—after all, she had other lives to worry about now rather than just her own. All began piecing back together to normal again...and then the camp was attacked.

Many of the others split up, others had ran blindly or right into the enemy. Still, others had not been so lucky.

The twins were almost seven when it all happened. And needless to say, seeing what was once your home up in flames with the stench of everything burning is not a pleasant memory to keep.

Though Marya is thankful that she and the twins were able to get out alive, even it only being with the clothes on their backs and the necklace Marya's Nana had given her hours before the attack as good luck that she had held close to her chest.

It's ironic when you think about it. And that, sadly, she had to part with the jade necklace in order to make enough money to get them all by. And within almost half a year, they had managed to catch a flight to America, following stories told and hoping that they could make a better life there.

The rest is history, as can be figured out.

Not many of the others from their traveling family followed them across the seas.

Marya and the twins were homeless for a period of time until she found a decent job. She worked her way up, the twins grew strong, and as time passed, they all grew into a normal American family.

And then her daughter had been born, and the twins' powers began to emerge.

And then things took to a whole new level. On one hand, the woman couldn't be happier; on another, they had powers when in a world that hadn't shown much favor for. It also took babysitting to another step.

But still, Marya was happy. The twins provided much needed help with her new daughter which came difficult from her job's uneven hours. More than once, they have shown empathy towards her and have offered to help find ways for coming up with money. Marya had always shot them down, but still, there were incidents when money would randomly disappear and reappear in her purse, and there was twice with a "misunderstanding" with her bank account that a large sum had suddenly appeared, and then disappeared soon after. She knew that it all was in good intentions, but it was increasingly challenging to raise super-powered children in secrecy.

Magda would have been proud

But of course, as typical when raising any children, as the years when by, things began to change. But Marya couldn't complain—she had a well-paying job, three beautiful children, good health, a roof over their heads and food to eat.

Wanda is somewhat a quiet girl who doesn't like confrontation, and Peter always seems to seek attention.

While her brother gave into his abilities, his impulsiveness, she became afraid and tried to control hers.

Marya's own daughter is just a bubbly, pink-loving tyke.

Wanda is somewhat the family's peacekeeper. And Marya saw that as her abilities began to appear, Wanda buried more into her shell.

Wanda is the somewhat quiet child. Peter, on the other hand...

* Knock Knock Knock Knock ! *

"Peter! Why are the cops here? What did you do!"

Meisha is one who can be called intuitive. Ever since she was very small, she has had an uncanny ability to identify one's true emotions or intentions no matter how buried or denial they were in. It was like something that was like second nature to her, and it wasn't until she was eight years old did her parents realize that it was the product of a mutation rather than just "strange coincidences."

This ability has followed her since, and with her now in high school it only became more troublesome.

This ability is one that she finds odd, especially given that both of her parents and known family, as far as she knew, were all normal. And at first, she hadn't wanted it, despised her abilities. Meisha felt isolated, abnormal, vulnerable, and alone despite her parents' indifference of their showing of affection over her. Her parents were indifferent about her mutation, knowing it didn't change her from being their daughter.

To this day, Meisha hasn't fully welcomed it—she has just come to accept her mutation.

This had been evident in the way she carries herself, the low volume she speaks in, and in her timid attitude. She would shy away from any contact, not wanting to have the sense of their thoughts and wants crowding her mind—it's nearly impossible to hold in and get rid of when other's were inquired, and it usually led to her blurting out intentions that most would have wanted to keep secret. Because of this, the friends she had in the past hadn't lasted very long, and those that had stayed, eventually they moved away anyhow.

Her parents shower her with as much appreciation they could offer, treating her no different than if she hadn't gained a mutation. But it began growing difficult to muster a smile and approving attitude when their child would only sulk and frown.

The day her parents expressed this to her, which was followed by another event happening later that month at school, was when her second mutation surfaced. And to this day, Meisha hasn't uttered a word to any soul of the shock and the blood that had covered the tile and school bathroom floor that day.

And then Meisha isolated herself, and kept her hair tied in a braid to prevent the event it from repeating.

Her hair was the first thing that young Peter Maximoff commented on when meeting her for the first time. There was no "hello" or even some excuse about the weather. His first comment had been straightforward: "Your hair is freaky long! And so red...is that natural?!"

And Meisha had stared back at him, mouth hung open in an unsure drone. She lowered her hand from the top of her hair from fiddling with her hairpins. "Yes..." she drew out the word, unsure of his motives. "This is the color I was born with. At least, I'm moderately sure it wasn't changed when I was a baby..." she added with sarcasm.

"Why do you keep it in a braid?"

"Because I like it."

"So you never thought about doing something else with it? I don't know, like pin it up in a really cool, weird style or in twists or something. Be creative. 'Cause just one braid is boring. Lame. ...You know, it'd make a really cool mullet!"

Meisha had frowned. "I do it because I have to. Besides," her eyes began to burn from the start of tears. She didn't quite like this, "what are you to say? Isn't that just a bad dye job your mom did?"

He had laughed and then asked, "can you, like, wrap it around yourself or use it to carry something or tie something up with it..." He turned to a singsong voice. "Can you tie it in a knot can you tie it in a bow?!"

She paused. "Why do you ask so many questions!?"

To her annoyance, he just smirked and looked at her from the corner of his eye. "I kinda like you, you know... you're funny."

And since that day, they have stuck together.

"And by the way, your hair makes the braid kinda cool."

Meisha's parents were also happy that she has come to accepting herself more and her powers since. ...And mainly, it had to do with her being able to identify with others like herself.

And once she revealed her ability to emotion-read, Peter had only grown more excited. It helped her become more comfortable with having someone else who was just as weird as her.

A few monts later, they would meet Ronny.

Peter

Meisha

Ronny

Just the three of them, together. That's how it's always been, and that is how they are now.

Meisha follows after Peter down the school hall, all but jogging to keep up with his quick pace. She asks for him to slow down as she fought against the stream of students hurrying the opposite way.

"Can't," he answers simply, pushing through a group of girls with teased hair.

The students soon thin out and Meisha is able to sprint to his side. "Then you mind telling me exactly what we're doing this time?"

Only a smile gracing his face is her answer. Meisha looks over her shoulder nervously seeing the hall quickly empty the further they walk. That's one of those mischievous smirks he wears, when he's up to something that would most likely, on the norm, get them detention, scolded, or someone dunked in a trashcan.

"No time."

He hurries around a corner and Meisha has to put in unnecessary effort just to stay behind him. Here, around the corner, the halls were entirely clear.

"Then what exactly will we need?" She watches him glance around and then speed further down the hall to a locker, spinning the combination lock. Meisha runs up to peer over his shoulder just as he pulls the locker door open.

"A toothpick. Duct tape. Screwdriver. A bag. Rope. And lots and lots of bleach. And plastic wrap." He's handing her the said materials, pulling them out one by one. "The bleach can wait 'til next time. The plastic wrap now."

"And so you need me for...the screwdriver part...?"

He nods. "And the rope." He shuffles papers aside as if looking for something else.

Meisha sighs heavily to herself and refusing to smile. Peter seems to always find a way to drag her in one of his schemes, seeming to like using her mainly as a resource because of her power.

But secretly she liked it
She didn't mind

And Meisha could already feel her braid twitching, the end barely brushing against the back of her knees and she curls her hands into fists. Why did she insist on this boy, she questions herself, seemingly for the umpteenth time.

He searches more through the mess of loose-leaf pages. "And how long is this supposed to take?" she faintly worries.

"Don't worry yourself. It's just going to take a couple seconds. Minutes, maybe."

"That's what you said last time. You know that it isn't good for Ronny to be in crowds alone."

Their friend, Ronny, doesn't like crowds or any group gatherings because that's how he discovered his mutation, one day almost blending in completely to the building right next to his parents.

TERRIFYING

PANIC

His mutation always happened when he s nervous. Especially in crowds.

"You guys go on ahead. Just hurry back," Ronny sucked his lip, telling them almost twenty minutes ago.

Peter lets the locker door close on its own and speeds around her and began continuing down the hallway, still that same up-to-no-good smirk on his face. "He'll be fine!" Peter focus is straight ahead.

Meisha has to rush back to his side. She worries about just how long has he been plotting this. When she asks this out loud, it makes him pause, eyes shift, and give the most suspicious "not long" answer to record. Meisha shuffles the things in her arms. She calls for help, feeling them slipping from her grasp. He seems almost surprised—completely forgetting about it.

He plucks the roll of plastic wrap from her and hikes it under his arm. The duct tape is stuck between his teeth. Meisha keeps open the large bag and he hides the tape under his jacket and she bites her lip catching his shirt rise in the effort.

"And so what's gonna be done with all those?" She knew that there's no use trying to diverge his mind now.

"Well, first, I'm gonna need you to take out all the screws in Dean Picardy's office. That's step one. Then, I have this plan that by the next assembly, to make the principle's pants fall apart by using enough bleach..."

. . .

It is the students in their grade year and those the year above who were packed into the gymnasium for yet another mandatory assembly. It seems the more fights, misconduct, and pranks that have been increasingly occurring required a mandatory assembly by the principle's arrangements.

In the classrooms when the assembly had first been announced over the intercom, Meisha already guessed that the steel-haired mutant behind her had aided in the cause of it. He had looked up and stared ahead, remaining that way until their classmates begun packing at the end of the period. She had watched as he smirked slyly, turned to Ronny, spoke something too low to hear and stood from his chair to leave ago long with the students. She continued on with Peter, pausing for a moment as Ronny diverged to keep watch during the assembly. That was part of the plan.

And in the bleachers there is where the two found him as Peter slinks into the gym, ignoring the eyes from the teachers about his tardiness. Meisha pauses before going inside behind him. And just as she suspects, Ronny's sitting and rubbing his forearms in-between his knees, eyes shifting and feet bouncing nervously.

In the gym, Peter puffs his cheeks in a sigh, sliding into the space next to the taller teen and Ronny almost immediately calms and returns to normal.

"How long was that?" Peter rubs his hands together, still riding out the last of his burst of adrenaline. He enjoys this, testing his limits and dancing between the lines. It gave him a rush when his powers weren't allowed. That's why he's wearing this proud, self-satisfied grin.

"Just over seven minutes," Ronny answers, glancing at his wristwatch. He exhales a shaky sigh. "Would we need to run again? ...Uh, and I got that camera's in my bag."

"No need." The other licks his lips, pushing down a beaming smile that wants to push through. "Just wait for fourth period history and it's sure to be announced." He eases into his seat.

The administrator in the middle of the gym is talking about the new punishments for tardiness. Meisha's face burns, knowing their insinuating is directed towards her and Peter.

The gym doors swing open and slam shut as three pale boys enter.

Good. So now they wouldn't be the only ones scolded.

"So, uh…what's all this about?" Peter points with his chin towards the school dean who steps forward, and who is tapping the mic.

A splitting screech echoes through the room. The entire gymnasium covers their ears until the mic's feedback passes.

"Ah, you just missed a "very useful" speech on the need to stop harassment and bullying the need to stop bullying," Ronny answers sarcastically and with a sigh. "It isn't going to work. One on upcoming tests, and there was one on the importance of peer pressure. Now I think they're going to be saying something about that lunchroom fight you started last time." Ronny gestures to the adults below and gives pointed looks at the teen beside him.

Peter turns. "Hey, that fight wasn't entirely my fault. I didn't even start it anyway that jerk-off did!"

Ronny snickers and bumps his shoulder. He knew and is only joking.

The dean at the microphone continues. He speaks that there will be the upcoming Spirit Week and the usual fundraiser booths coordinated by the student government's senior president. Unnecessary enthusiasm added.

Ronny smirks at the mention of Spirit Week. Peter smiles for other reasons. Meisha continues frowning on the seat below them.

Spirit Week is just an excuse by those on the student government to raise money. Despite, it's worked almost every time. People enjoy the small games, the laxer dress code, competition between teachers and classrooms.

The senior president is a guy who has won grade representative and a position on the student council in all his years of high school.

Then, the dean announces that in honor of this year's anniversary, there will be a competition among the class of this grade to get the highest attendance wins free pizza coupons. To a majority of the students, being on time is nonessential, so the dean decided to attempt to manipulate them this year. And of course the offer of free food grabs attention. There would also be a three-dollar admission to a movie showing in the gym.

"Oh really…" Peter perks at this, yet another idea already formulating in his mind, and he smirks. "...So... basically a great time to ask out Mckenzie..." He rubs his hands together, speaking more to himself.

No one catches Meisha rolling her eyes or her small snarl.

"Pffft!" Ronny had overheard and sticks out his chin.

Peter is staring not too far off at a laughing brunette in a red bandanna headband and light blue jumpsuit. Seeing this, Ronny sighs slightly, shaking his head, and grimaces.

"And how exactly do you possibly think that could go about—successfully—without slipping, butterfingers? You know how she is, and that she's never alone." Ronny glances up just in time to catch the girl in question lean over and brush her lips along the jaw of a boy seating beside to her. Peter had already turned back ahead and hadn't seen. That had to be Mckenzie's current squeeze and Ronny worries that his friend just wouldn't understand…

"That's what everyone says. You don't know that for sure," Peter defends.

"Uh huh, sure." Ronny's gaze then drifts to a light haired brunette seating not too far away from Mckenzie. Unlike the first, this one isn't smiling at all. "Besides," Ronny jokes, "what about Miss Frigid; weren't you just trying to get her life story a few days ago."

The other follows his friend's line of sight. Rainy is settled between that steadily talking strawberry blonde from English class and one of the school's star ball players. Peter wonders how the girl isn't showing signs of discomfort from being wedged next to the dark player.

"Oh, her?" He points. "What about her?"

Ronny raises a brow.

"Yeah I asked about her; so what? It's nothing serious."

"So what?" and Ronny chuckles. The comment had probably been meant for himself.

Peter's blank look doesn't change upon the mention of the other, despite being one of the school's most popular names.

"You're serious about this?"

A crease forms between Peter's light-colored brows. He glances above once more when he's certain his friend isn't looking and caught Rainy rubbing her arm. Her hand ran over the same area where she had been burnt over a year ago. He wonders is she remembered he had been there when it happened.

"What's that's supposed to mean? You don't think I can do it?" He turns around, speaking rapidly. He means asking out Mckenzie, a feat in itself that would be considered a miracle by any under-aged male.

Ronny scoffs. "I know you wouldn't be able to do it."

Then Peter half sneers, half smirks. He begins thinking of a comeback. In front of them, Meisha shakes her head.

"…Gonna start being just like her," she mutters, and pauses before peeking over her shoulder.

"Exactly! Thank you, Meisha! Dude, you aren't gonna last. Now, with asking her out—maybe you'd be successful. But dude, you know Mckenzie was with a nineteen year old before, and just last year she broke up with that senior guy right before graduation from after, like, two years. You do remember that, right?"

"Yeah? And so what do—-"

"Okay then, I rest my case." Ronny holds out his palms as if to make his point. "Go ahead and do what you gotta, but I think it's dangerous to have mess with her."

"You think it's dangerous if you take a shit without telling your mom."

"I do not! I—-" The taller one gapes, struggles for words.

Meisha rolls her eyes, turning forward. Peter raises a brow.

"Dude…what about the jeans she made you—-"

"That was one time!"

The two boys stealing on Ronny's other side glance over with questioning stares. Peter is snickering.

Ronny purses his lips, slaps his hands on his thighs. "Fine. Fine. But all I'm saying is that it-it's not smart to try and go around with two girls on your hands, alright? First Mckenzie I-I guess I understand, and then you're all over Capulet—-"

Two-timing

Meisha's brows shoot up and she turns around to stare.

The bridge of Peter's nose winkles. "Dude, what? No! I'm not trying to say it like that in that way. No—just no. What the hell anyway—-!"

"Alright~" Ronny places a hand on his chest in mock concern. "I was worried that I'd might have to start digging your grave for you early." He grins seeing his friend's frown.

"He'll never do it anyway," Meisha muttered into her knuckles. "Mckenzie is too..how do I say this nicely? ...Too way up there to reach." She raises her fist to emphasis a bar. "She's just...no."

Peter's frown deepens. "Well who asked you anyway?"

Ronny catches her eye and smiles. "I agree with Meisha. She's way out of your league." This earns the gray-haired teen to turn on him now. "Besides, I hear Juliet's a hard one to crack, doesn't speak to hardly anyone and it's worse if she does. It'd be a miracle if anyone even found just what her problem was..." he muses about Rainy. "Doesn't mean she's any better, though."

"Not really. I've talked to her before," Peter shrugs. His head tilts a little to each side as he lists off: "A little cold, somewhat talkative, all around snappy." He smirks shakes. He then shook his head in sympathy, sucking his teeth. "She's not your type."

"Oh, my type?" Ronny chuckles. "I'm not sure just whose type she is, but all I'm saying is that Mckenzie would be too much to handle." He smirks, knowing he was only irking his friend. His words were true, however. "You know how many guys she turns down a day?" he exaggerates. "And, I think Juliet over there would be easier...for someone who doesn't mind getting their ears bitten off."

Meisha tilts her head and adds to the teasing. "You're saying it like you heard this all like facts or something from somewhere."

"I'm saying it 'cause I know," Ronny answers. "And that I did hear it from somewhere. 'Cause I bet he couldn't do it anyway."

Peter looks Ronny in the eye. His brows arch, tempted. "Is that a challenge I'm hearing?"

The other pauses for a moment to think it over. Whenever Ronny has let down from a bet or challenge with him, Peter would hold it over his head for days, weeks even. Or however long the chicken bawks and snide comments would last until he gets bored. So, not wanting to destroy his own ego, Ronny inhales, squares his jaw, and puffs his chest. "Yeah…yeah it is. I'll even pay ya." Now he had the speedster's attention.

Peter is intrigued. "How much are we talking?"

"Well, I'm talkin' about the forty you're gonna be paying me when Mckenzie still be on her ex by the time of the gym movie showing, and Capulet chews you out by then. But you have to last until then."

Peter's brows raise, looking impressed. "Oh! " He smiles. "Challenge excepted!"

By now, Meisha's insides are churning. She had been hoping that Peter wouldn't agree to it, but that was impossible, knowing him. The end of her braid twitches and her hand reaches to squeeze it to keep it still. She wipes her look of shock and replaces it with narrowed eyes. She didn't like this; she has a bad feeling about this.

A/N: Yeah I know a bet is a very stupid thing to do, and most people today know better, but generation ago many didn't think that way. There won't be any cruel tropes because of this. Please work with me here